


Stay

by bLEWfire



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry Allen/Iris West Fluff, Bed-Wetting, Embarrassed Barry Allen, F/M, Iris West Loves Barry Allen, Married Barry Allen/Iris West, Near Death, Possible Character Death, Scared Barry Allen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-18 17:50:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21280796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bLEWfire/pseuds/bLEWfire
Summary: Crisis on Infinite Earths looms ever closer, and Barry is fighting hard to be strong for the rest of his team. On the outside, he acts like he's okay, but his fear is catching up with him in a particularly embarrassing way. Iris is there to remind him that she loves him... even in wet pajamas. (Look there just weren't any stories about The Flash that touched on this idea and I wanted one so I wrote it.)
Relationships: Barry Allen/Iris West
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a hot minute since I've written any fanfiction at all, but basically I wanted there to be a story like this about The Flash and there wasn't so ... I wrote one. Deals with bedwetting and accompanying embarrassment, also massive existential angst and impending death. If you don't like it, don't read. If you do like it, please tell me! Comments feed the muse. No beta, all errors mine.
> 
> ETA: I added a few lines of dialogue. :)

_He's running as hard as he can. He wonders briefly how fast he's going. Has he clocked a new top speed? But he can't dwell on the thought. He's a man out of time. Behind him, a mass of anti-matter, spreading, growing, coming for him. Ahead of him, Iris, his lightning rod, tears streaming down her face, arms outstretched as if she still believes he will reach her. He has never wanted something so much. Never wanted so badly to fall into her arms, be held, be safe. Stay. "Iris!" He shouts, trying desperately to get to her. But already he can feel it: the anti-matter catching up. He's starting to unravel. It sears like hot flame, and he screams. He doesn't want to go. "Iris!" He doesn't want to go. But he's going, going…_

"**Barry!"**

A warm, familiar voice jolts him awake but the nightmare still has its grip on him. The image of the last thing he'll ever see, the feeling of ceasing to exist, and he can't breathe, he can't get the breath into his lungs, and he's dying, dying all over again.

"**Breathe, Barry, breathe."**

Says the warm voice and he holds onto it like it's a lifeline, because it is. She is. She brings him out of the darkness of his fear, of his panic, his desperation. Slowly the fear fades as she repeats the words over and over.

"Breathe, Barry, breathe."

Finally, he's calm enough to take a full breath and before the exhale she says, "let's get cleaned up."

He must have looked at her puzzled then, because she offers, with heartbreaking, humiliating gentleness, "The bed, Barry."

That's when he realizes. The coldness he feels all around him is more than just sweat. The unholy scent assaulting his nose is urine. Barry Allen, fastest man alive, 30 years old, has wet the bed.

For a moment the shame threatens to drown him. The remnants of his terror with it. But he feels his fix-it mode slide into place. Bearing his teeth against his own embarrassment he says, "Iris, God, I'm so sorry. You shower. I'll do the sheets and then shower down at STAR Labs and be back before you miss me… I'm sorry."

It's the last "I'm sorry"—quieter, tentative, his voice wavering on the word—that really breaks Iris' heart. "I can stay. I can help." She offers. He doesn't look at her. Doesn't say her name again. He only offers one word, a broken whisper, and she knows she must oblige. "Please" he says.

When she steps out of the shower ten minutes later, she finds the bed freshly made with new sheets, the sound of the washer going across the apartment and not a sign of Barry anywhere.

She debates for a second. Perhaps he'd prefer some time alone. But she's known Barry forever, and she's knows better. She knows where to find him too.

He speaks when he hears her slide the door open and step out onto the balcony. He's huddled in a shadowed corner, hair still wet from his own shower, arms loosely around his knees.

"How'd you know where to find me?" He asks in a voice so quiet and scared and embarrassed It hurts to hear.

"Lucky guess," She says at first. But he nearly looks at her then and she knows he needs more.

"The first time you wet the bed after you came to live with us, you hid. I looked for you everywhere. And my dad finally found you, huddled up on the porch. I just figured I'd start from there this time."

She can feel the shame rolling off Barry like actual heat. He flinches when she says the words "wet the bed." She'd been there with him, more than once all those years ago, but never said the words.

"Barry, it's okay." She offers. And then he shakes his head furiously, a few renegade tears dripping unbidden as he pulls his hand across his eyes.

"No it's not. I'm the Flash. In less than 2 months I'm supposed to save you, the universe, and I can't even keep the bed—I can't go the night without"—but he chokes, the words unspoken, lodged like a bullet in his chest.

He still won't look at her.

"Barry, do you remember that Christmas party a couple of years ago when we told embarrassing stories?" She asks, hopefully. He groans, and, to her horror, has to furiously rub his eyes again.

"Yeah. Of course I remember. How could I forget?" He answers miserably. "I can't believe I thought that was the most embarrassed I could be." She winces in sympathy, but presses on.

"Do you remember what I said to you that night?"

He nods, still afraid to look at her, the memory playing out in his mind.

* * *

_They've just put away another bad guy, another threat gone, just in time for the holidays. Joe and Cecile invite the whole gang back to their place and, riding the high of their most recent win, everyone agrees._

_It's a perfect night. Eggnog and wine and a fire and a sparkling tree and the kind of laughter than only comes after you thought you might never laugh again. The hero life was like that._

_Then someone—was it Cisco?—suggested they swap embarrassing stories. Caitlin had been quick to offer up a story about a Cisco experiment gone wrong, in which he'd begun to itch so bad he'd stripped stark naked in the middle of STAR labs._

_Then a photo had caught Barry's eye from the bookshelf. Before he could stop himself, he was showing it around, telling everyone about the time in 9th grade when Iris had attempted to give herself a haircut and it had gone… badly._

_She looked more shocked and betrayed than he'd expected as the photo was passed around, and he was about to apologize when she suddenly blurted out, "Barry wet the bed until he was 11."_

_It shouldn't have been a big deal. It was years ago. Doesn't every kid wet the bed at some point? So he's surprised by the wave of shame and embarrassment that swells up in him. It must have shown on his face, because as soon as the words left her mouth, Iris looked regretful. Cisco and Caitlin smirked despite themselves. He felt his cheeks burn and before he could stop himself he was saying, "That's not true! I hadn't! And then my mom died and yeah okay I did few times, but then it never happened again!"_

_Okay so maybe it wasn't entirely the truth, but still, he thought he'd settled it. Iris looked thoroughly cowed and the others seemed ready to forget it entirely given the new context of his life's most tragic moment. Until he caught Joe's eye, right as Joe was saying "mmmmm" and shaking his head._

_For a moment, Barry was puzzled, and then horror sunk into the bottom of his gut like a stone._

_"Not never." Joe said, quirking an eyebrow._

_Barry's own eyebrows arched in alarm._

_"Joe. No. Joe don't," he said, shaking his head and looking panicked, and already turning red._

_But Iris' curiosity was piqued. "Don't what? Dad, what do you know?" she asked, throwing a searching smirk Barry's way._

_Joe offered Barry a semi-apologetic smile._

_"Remember that night junior year that Barry dragged you to that haunted house?" He asked Iris._

_"Hold up," Ralph said, grinning widely. "This happened when you were in *high school*?" Barry buried his head in his hands. _

_ _"Joooooeeeee." Barry begged, to no avail._ _

__

_"Of course I do. I got so scared I made us leave early and called you to pick us up. Barry made fun of me the whole way home."_

_'Well, I think it's fair to say that Barry was at least as scared as you were."_

_At this point, Barry groaned from behind his hands, which were covering his fully flushed face. Cisco and Caitlin exchanged knowing glances._

_"Come on, Joe," Barry pleaded one last time. But it was too late. Joe chuckled as he continued while the rest of the gang listened with growing amusement._

_"I found him that night in the laundry room, trying to shove in his wet sheets and pajamas, every light between his bedroom and the laundry room turned on. He tried to say something about spilled coke, as if I hadn't seen him in exactly that state a dozen times before, but he was shaking so hard from whatever nightmare he'd had that he couldn't get the laundry going without help. I had to sit with him until he fell asleep, just like when he first moved in. As I recall, he kept a light on in his room for weeks after that."_

_"Actually, he still keeps the bathroom light on with the door cracked." Iris offers with a smirk._

_"Iris?!" Barry yelped in alarm._

_This earned a hearty laugh from all of Team Flash. The whole story was funny to imagine, but there was something particularly amusing about thinking about their heroic team leader who had faced down countless villains still being afraid of the dark enough to need a nightlight. For his part, Barry could have gone forever without that particular secret (or Joe's story, for that matter) getting out._

_"Oh my God," Barry groaned, cheeks still crimson, rubbing one hand across his face. "Can we move on to someone else's most embarrassing moment? Please?"_

_"Wait," Iris said. "We stayed up that night in our pajamas watching a movie. I feel like I would have noticed if you came downstairs the next morning wearing something different." Barry gave Joe the briefest of glances, and Joe was grinning at him over his mug, clearly enjoying the moment._

_"You wanna take this one, Barr?" he said. Barry gave an embarrassed laugh and rubbed his eyes, but he did answer._

_"Joe stayed up to finish the laundry before we woke up. He put my pajamas at the end of my bed to change back into before I came down for breakfast, so you'd never know I ... what had happened."_

_"Awww" Iris, Cecile, and Caitlin all said at once, while Cisco toasted Joe and said, "What a good dad, helping Barry hide his little nighttime accident."_

_"Kill me now." Barry mumbled._

_There was a beat of awkward silence, and then Cisco gave Barry a clap on the shoulder and said, "Well, Barry, look on the brightside. I think you definitely win for *most* embarrassing moment. Congrats. Remind me never to take you to a haunted house."_

_Barry sighed and said, "Well, it *was* my most embarrassing moment. Until tonight. When I got to watch everyone I know and care for find out about it." He couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with anyone just yet, until his gaze landed on Joe._

_ "I can't believe you told that story. That you told everyone that I... you know." Barry muttered._

_"Come on, Barry. Just say it." Cisco taunted, but added a smile and shrug to show he wasn't trying to be mean._

_Barry hesitated, his face heating to new levels, but finally he rolled his eyes and said, "Fine. Okay. It's true, I... wet the bed."_

_"When you were were 16." Cisco pushed._

_Barry gave another exasperated sigh, "Yes. I was 16, and I had a nightmare, and... yeah I... had an accident. Happy?!" He finished, in a huff. But Cisco nodded and said, "I am, actually. It's pretty fun to hear the Flash admit he's a bedwetter."_

_"*Was!*" Barry blurted automatically, looking panicked for half a second. Then he turned back to Joe._

_"You promised you'd never tell her." He says, no real heat to the words, but feeling a little betrayed and embarrassed even if it was all in good fun, and Joe almost feels bad before remembering the loving company they're in._

_"I only promised because I knew you were afraid she'd never like you if she knew you wet the bed at 16, and I don't think you really have to worry about that anymore, Barr,"_

_Barry's face was still flushed. He tried to take it lightly and brush it off. After all, they'd all shared embarrassing moments with each other. But he worried the skin around his thumb nervously with his teeth. He heard Iris say, "Barry Allen," several times, getting closer and closer, until she took his hands in hers and he finally dared to look at her._

_There was nothing in her eyes that Christmas night except the deepest love he'd ever known, the love that had been with him through so much._

_"Barry, I love you. And I will love you forever." She said, and then after a brief pause, she added with a wink, "Even in wet pajamas."_

_He's blushed bright red again at that, even as he smiled despite himself. And Cisco had groaned and insisted that they change the topic. So the party had continued…_

* * *

"Do you remember what I said?" Iris asked again.

He nodded and she said, "Say it." and he paused, as if stumbling over the words, but then he shook his head and choked out a quiet, "I can't."

She wanted to push him, but she knew he'd gone as far as he could. So she took his chin in her hands and lifted his head to face her and he cautiously looked at her, face still flushed, eyes glassy and wet. Iris said, "I told you I love you. And I will love you forever… Even in wet pajamas."

He cringed at this last part and tried to turn away but she held firm. "Talk to me, Barry."

And she saw it. The exact moment when his resolve crumbled completely and he let her in. No shame in his face now, just terror and deep crushing anguish. "I'm scared, Iris. I'm trying to be strong for everyone else but I… I don't want to die. I don't want to die!" And then he's crying hard, his breath coming in broken gasps, and he leans hard into her, clutching on for dear life because she's his lifeline, his lightning rod, and he doesn't want to go, but he's going.

"I don't want to go. I don't want to go," he says, voice trembling, over and over between sobs. And Iris holds him tightly in her arms, stroking his hair gently, her own tears falling soundlessly to mingle with his. She listens to him cry and wishes for all the world that Barry wasn't the fastest man alive, wasn't a god of speed, wishes that for once, one of them had the power to slow everything down, to stop time forever. Because she knows as well as Barry does what's coming and it's coming too fast, too fast, too fast.

And so she whispers over and over, gently in his ear, "I will love you forever, I will love you forever."

But her heart is screaming the words she can't say, the desperate wish she knows no one has the power to grant.

_Stay, Barry, stay._


	2. Not That Grown...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe West finds teenage Barry in the laundry room in a very embarrassing situation after a fateful trip to a haunted house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, I work backwards, because after writing chapter 1, I suddenly felt compelled to write the story of Barry's most embarrassing moment that Joe shared at the Christmas party. At this rate, I'll probably follow this up with some scenes from when Barry first moved in with Joe and Iris next. Anywho - same kind of content as the last chapter. If you're not into it, don't read it!

The haunted house had been Barry’s idea. Iris had said it sounded like a terrible way to spend an evening, “Why scare yourself on purpose?” she’d said. But Barry was imagining Iris getting spooked by a skeleton or giant spider and jumping into his waiting arms. Maybe tonight would finally be the night he could tell her…   
  
But Iris had, like always, been right. This haunted house was way scarier than Barry anticipated. It took everything inside of him not to show how freaked out he was, and when the man with the ACTUAL FREAKING CHAINSAW came running after that and Iris demanded that they call Joe to come pick them up earlier, Barry had secretly been relieved. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could have made it.

He’d missed his chance to scare Iris into his comforting arms though, so he was left with teasing her about how frightened she’d gotten.    
  
“Whatever, Barry. Admit it, you were scared too.” She said, trying to shove him llightly from the front seat of the car as she turned around to face him. He leaned back out of her reach, his hands up as if fending her off. Truthfully his heart was hammering, from the haunted house  _ and _ from Iris, but on the outside he laughed and rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Iris. It wasn’t  _ that _ bad. Maybe you’re just a scaredy cat.”   
  
“Says the guy who’s still afraid of the dark!”   
  
“Am not!” he shot back, perhaps a little too quickly.    
  
Joe watched the scene play out through his rearview mirror with growing amusement. It had been obvious for years that Barry had a huge crush on Iris, even before he’d come to live with them, but Iris seemed to have no clue. Sometimes, it made Barry too shy and awkward to be himself, so Joe much preferred this playful side of things.    
  
When they got home, Barry suggested they throw on pajamas and stay up for a bit watching a funny movie, arguing that it would give  _ Iris _ time to calm down. He didn’t mention how much he need some time with a funny movie, safe company, and a well lit room. He threw on his favorite plaid pajama pants, a present from Iris from last Christmas, and a faded science club t-shirt and met her back in the living room.    
  
They made it through the entire movie, and Iris at least seemed to be feeling better. She started to get up to go to bed, and Barry tried to convince her to watch another one, but she resisted, leaving him and Joe alone. When Joe also refused to watch another movie, Barry finally relented and made his way up to his room. 

The image of the chainsaw man was still playing through his head, and he could feel the panic he was trying not to acknowledge. He was tempted, for half a second, to turn on his closet light, a habit he’d held onto for an embarrassingly long time, but had finally stopped a few months ago.    
  
_ Your too old to be afraid of the dark, Barry Allen. Get it together already. What would Iris think? _ He thought to himself. And with that, he turned his light off, dove under his covers, squeezed his eyes shut, and whispered, “I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid” until he finally fell asleep. Not long after, Joe poked his head into Barry’s room as he’d just done with Iris, a habit he couldn’t break no matter how old and independent his kids got. He laughed softly to himself and shook his head at the sight of Barry curled up tightly on his side, clutching a bunch of his comforter like it was his old stuffed tiger. It sure looked like Iris wasn’t the only one a little freaked out by the haunted house.   
  


* * *

All was quiet for awhile, until Barry suddenly awoke with a start. Despite his chanting mantra, the nightmare had found him. _In his dream, he’d woken up in his bed at the sound of creaking board somewhere on the floor below. He’d tried to ignore it, when he heard another one not far away. And so he’d crept out of bed and glanced down the stairs, only to see the chainsaw man staring up at him, his evil grin showing even through his mask. He’d rev’ed the power on his chainsaw and dashed after Barry, who had run to the end of the hall and ended up trapped in the bathroom, when the chainsaw man had appeared above him as he fell into the empty tub, knowing he couldn’t escape. _ _   
_   
And then he had jerked awake, back in his own bed, his too-dark room, his too-quiet house, gasping for breath, covered in sweat. His sheets were tangled around him, and he slowly began the process of extricating himself, until he grabbed a handful of sheets and realized … they were soaked. Not like sweat-damp, but like … wet. Wet like... He jerked his hand back suddenly in confusion quickly morphing into incredulous horror, panic blossoming into his chest all over again, now for an entirely different reason - the nightmare momentarily forgotten.    
  
It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. He was 16. He was graduating from high school in less than 2 years. It hadn’t happened in … years. There was no way. But when he dared to touch the sheets again, shifting his body too, he knew it was true. The pajama pants Iris had given him last Christmas - his favorite pair - and his sheets, even part of his shirt, were all soaked.  __ He had wet them. He, Barry Allen, sixteen years old, had wet the bed.    
  
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!” He whispered desperately, climbing out of bed and surveying the damage. This couldn’t be happening. The wet patch covered a sizable portion of his bed and his pajama pants clung to him in a way that was both painfully familiar and distant, a sensation he had fully expected that he’d never experience again. But here he was. To his dismay, he felt the sting of his eyes welling with tears. So not only had he wet the bed like a little kid, now he was crying over it like one too.   
  
Had he screamed from the nightmare? Had anyone else woken up? If Joe saw him like this … if Iris… oh God, if Iris found out! It had been bad enough when they were eleven! He would never recover. 

He quieted for a moment, listening for the sounds of others, but he heard nothing but that eerie silence, and the occasional creak of the old house, which reminded him of the fear that had landed him in this humiliating predicament in the first place.    
  
_ Why did I think the haunted house was a good idea? _ He shouted internally. “I’m such an idiot.” he muttered out loud. 

He realized he was just standing there in wet pajamas, getting cold. He had to do something. But if he showered, Joe would hear. The bathroom was right next to his bedroom. Barry decided instead to strip out of his wet clothes and leave them with the wet sheets, and dash across the hall to the bathroom with clean clothes in hand - opting for some dry boxers, his hand-me-down sweats from Joe and his dad’s old shirt. He cleaned himself up as best and as quietly as he could with a wet washcloth and pulled on the clean sweats, and then crept back across the hall to his room.    
  
He gathered his sheets and clothes to wash, figuring he’d throw them in and if the others noticed in the morning, he’d make an excuse about staying up late and spilling a drink. He gave thanks that the laundry room was at least all the way down the hall from the bedrooms. Well he was giving thanks, until he realized that meant walking down a long creepy hallway, in the dark. The remnants of his nightmare were still tugging at him, and try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to walk that far in the dark. He turned on his bedroom light, watching it spill out into the hall, and tiptoed a little farther down to where the hallway light switch was. Then he held breath and turned it on, glad that Joe and Iris both slept with their doors closed, and praying that neither of them woke up and noticed the light under the crack.    
  
He made his way down the hallway, still scared - not sure if it was more about the chainsaw man or the thought of being discovered - flipping lights on along the way. He breathed a sigh of relief when he got to the laundry room, but his heart was still hammering and he could feel himself shaking. So badly in fact, that his fingers kept fumbling as he tried to stuff the ball of wet laundry into the washing machine.    
  
Of course, Joe did sleep with his door closed, but he also slept the light sleep of a parent, which meant that his eyes flicked open the second Barry turned on the bathroom sink to wet the washcloth, and he sat up when he saw the hallway light come on under the crack in his door a few minutes later. He clambered out of bed to see who was up to something.

* * *

“Barry? What is going on? It’s the middle of the night! Why is every light in the house on?!”

Barry nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around, shoving the balled up linens behind him, as if to hide them from view, eyes wide and cheeks reddening at rapid speed. 

“Want to tell me what I’m looking at here, kid?”

“Joe, I - I’m sorry.” He stammered out, digging for the excuse he’d planned for the morning. It seemed ridiculous now, but it was all he had. “I spilled coke and I didn’t want to leave it till morning and--”

“You … spilled coke … at 2 am?”

“I stayed up late reading, I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have.”

“Huh, that’s weird.” Joe said, crossing his arms and giving Barry an appraising look. “Because when I checked on you at midnight you were dead asleep. Want to try again?”

Barry glanced around desperately as if looking for another excuse, before finally giving up. Casting his gaze to the floor and tugging anxiously on the bottom of his shirt with his free hand, he stammered quietly, “I um… I had … I … it was … an accident,” His breath hitching on the final word.

  
Accident. That word could mean any number of things. But it had meant something very particular for Barry when he’d first come to live with the Wests. He hated the word. It was a euphemism. A way to avoid saying what had really happened, which admittedly he hated saying even more, but “accident” always made him feel like a baby. That was no less true now, and at 16, it was far more mortifying than it had been at 11. 

“Well that’s something I haven’t heard in … awhile.” Joe said, surprised and processing, and Barry blushed even more furiously, looking like he was hoping that the earth would swallow him up. 

“I’m sorry.” Barry squeaked out, voice breaking. 

Now that Joe was a little more awake, he realized the meaning of the scene before him should have been obvious. He felt bad for making the kid say it. Then again, to be fair he really thought those days were far behind them. 

Barry wasn’t wearing the same pajamas he’d seen him in the night before. Instead he was wearing some old sweats Joe had handed down to him and a t-shirt of his father’s he’d insisted on bringing with him that awful night when Joe first brought him home. Back then, he’d worn it to sleep almost every night for months. These days, Joe noticed that Barry only seemed to wear it when he was in particular need for comfort. He’d grown a lot taller in the last 5 years, but he was still skinny as ever, and the shirt was still huge on him. 

Lately he’d been thinking about how fast time was going, how close both Barry and Iris were to being grown, but maybe that wasn’t quite as true as he thought. Between the over-sized clothes, and his messed up bedhead, the nervous way the poor kid was fidgeting (actually, wow, he was shaking like a leaf, Joe realized), Barry looked pretty damn young in this moment, and honestly kind of adorable despite the awkwardness of the situation. It was hard not to think of those early days, when Barry had first come to live with them. He’d been so fragile, even as he tried to play it out as anger. Joe had had to learn the balance of offering comfort and safety without coddling in a way that made Barry feel too exposed. 

Jerking back to the present moment, Joe realized he’d been silent too long when he heard Barry sniffle and saw a couple of tears drop to the floor.  _ Aw kid, break my heart. _

“It’s okay.” He said gently, and Barry gave a kind of hollow, wet laugh and said, “No it’s not. I can’t believe I… I’m 16, Joe. How could I still ... Ugh.” And he ran a rough hand across his eyes. He was still shaking. 

Joe crossed the short distance between them, putting his hands on the sides of Barry’s shoulders. “Hey,” he said. “Barry, look at me.” It took Barry a second to comply, but when he did, Joe saw the boy was still blushing scarlet, tear tracks down his cheeks, eyes wet and miserable and ashamed. “It’s okay.” Joe said again. 

“Let me help you with this.” he said, attempting to take the tangled mess of wet sheets and pjs out of Barry’s hand. But Barry looked up at him in wide-eyed fear and clutched them tighter. “No, no you don’t have to, it … it’s gross.”   
  
At this, Joe couldn’t help but roll his eyes and chuckle, “Barr, it’s not like I haven’t handled your wet sheets plenty before.”   
  
The boy blushed even more at the reminder of his history, but he did relent and let Joe gently take over. As he unbundled the wet laundry to fit it into the machine and added the necessary detergent, he tried to coax a little more information out of the boy.   
  
“Given how much you’re shaking, and that you turned on nearly every damn light in the house, I’m guessing this was a nightmare-induced situation?” He asked, adding, “Maybe something to do with the haunted house y’all went to last night?”

Barry shuddered automatically, and then finally nodded and glanced at Joe sheepishly, “There was this guy with a chainsaw who chased us. It was a real chainsaw! I kept thinking he could be a real crazy person just hiding in the haunted house. And in my dream… he followed us home and…” he shuddered again. 

Joe gave Barry’s shoulder a comforting squeeze but also offered a knowing look. “Isn’t that the guy you were giving Iris such a hard time about on the way home?”   
  
Barry at least had the good sense to look guilty about it. “I didn’t want her to know I was scared,” he said quietly.    
  
Joe shook his head and rolled his eyes and said, “Let’s get to bed.”   
  
With the laundry started, Joe turned to leave, steering Barry ahead of him. He’d turned off the lights as he made his way down the hall, and as soon as they stepped back out into the darkness, he felt Barry tense up and then start shaking again.    
  
“Alright scaredy cat, I’ve got you. Let’s go.” Joe threw a comforting arm around Barry’s shoulders and guided him toward the light still shining out of his room. They walked in and Barry flinched when he realized he hadn’t finished taking care of the bed. It was still stripped, the evidence of his humiliating accident showing on the mattress. 

Joe took in the scene, once again feeling like he’d traveled through time. Barry started to sniffle again, and Joe decided to take quick action. “You stay here, Barr. I’ll get some clean sheets from the hall closet and then we can flip the mattress.” He was back in a flash, and in silence they worked together, flipping the mattress and making the bed.    
  
He got Barry settled back under the covers (he wouldn’t dare point out to Barry that this counted as being tucked in). Barry was grateful when Joe turned on the closet light without comment, before turning off the overhead light and turning to leave.   
  
“Joe, wait.” Barry said quietly, a little desperation leaking into his voice. “You won’t tell her will you?”   
  
“Iris? Joe asked. Barry nodded, eyes wide and worried.   
  
“You won’t tell her that I… that I... about this?”   
  
“Barry, she’s your best friend. She’s not gonna stop being your best friend over one embarrassing incident.”   
  
But Barry shook his head emphatically, another tear escaping his eye before he could stop it. “Please don’t tell her. Please. She can’t find out. Ever. If she does, she’ll never …” Joe smirked behind his hand as Barry trailed off. He wondered if the boy would ever admit to the obvious crush he’d been carrying around for years. Not tonight, it would seem. Barry left that sentence hanging, whispering instead with misery and mortification, “She’ll think I’m a baby.”   
  
Joe thought Barry probably didn’t have the slightest clue that he’d just confessed exactly the same fear, word for word, that he had years earlier, when his nighttime issues were frequent enough in the wake of his mother’s murder that Joe had brought home a package of Good Nites and gently suggested that the pullups might be a better temporary solution than all the constant laundry.    
  
Joe knew Iris loved Barry, even if not in the same way Barry loved her, and that she would be understanding if she knew about the night’s events just as she’d been understanding back then, even if she would probably tease him a little. Still, Joe also knew what it was like to be a teenage boy, and he couldn’t imagine many things more mortifying than the girl you were secretly in love with finding out you’d wet your bed at 16 years old. 

“I’m not gonna tell her, Barry.” Barry sighed and seemed to relax a little bit in relief. 

“You promise?”

“I promise. On the condition that you stop teasing her about the haunted house.”   
  
Barry nodded in vigorous agreement. 

“Good night, son.” Joe said, turning to leave again.    
  
“Joe, wait!” Barry said again, this time with panic creeping back into his voice. Joe sighed and turned around again.   
  
Barry could barely make eye contact and was fidgeting with the edge of his blanket, and he seemed to be working up the courage to say what he needed to say. Finally, he asked, quiet and embarrassed, “Will you… stay? Just… for a little while?”   
  
For half a beat, Joe hesitated, once again surprised by the throwback to the past. Then he made his way toward Barry, climbing on to the other side of the bed with a slight groan, propping himself up against Barry’s extra pillow.    
  
“You’re lucky I love you...” he said to Barry, who responded with a sleepy and automatic, “I know.”   
  
“... even when you pee your PJs,” Joe added, unable to resist the tease. New bright blooms of red splashed across Barry’s cheeks at hearing Joe say so blatantly what had happened, and he squeezed his eyes shut in a wince, “Joe!!” he groaned.    
  
Joe shushed him, but chuckled as he gave one last dig, “I’m just saying, do we need to dig your old plastic mattress protector out of storage? I think I stashed it somewhere, just in case...”   
  
“NO! Oh my god!” Barry exclaimed in a horrified whisper as he threw the comforter over his red face. “It was a one. time. thing. God, I’m never going to a haunted house again. This is the worst night ever.”   
  
“Okay, okay, I’m done. What’s family for if not to tease you a little?” Joe laughed gently and pulled the comforter away from Barry’s face. “You’re okay. Try to get some sleep.”

After half a moment more of huffing, Barry gave in and settled back down into the bed, curling up on his side, turned toward Joe, who silently placed his hand behind Barry’s head and started to slowly stroke his hair, just like he’d done when the boy was younger. He thought Barry had nearly fallen asleep when he heard him whisper, “Love you, Joe.” And Joe said, “I love you, too.”   
  
“Thanks for… you know… everything. And for staying.”   
  
“You’re my kid, Barr. I’ve got you. No matter what. I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.”   
  
Only after he’d finished saying it did he realize that Barry had fallen asleep already, to the sound of his voice.    
  
He stayed for a while after, still carding his hand through his boy’s hair, watching him sleep, thinking about how much he’d grown and how young he still was. And then finally, he ghosted a soft kiss on Barry’s head, and gently got up, heading to the laundry room to start the dryer. 

* * *

Barry woke up the next morning and found his freshly laundered pajamas folded at the end of the bed and flushed at the memory of what had happened. Then he noticed the note that said “Put these back on before you come down. She’ll never know.”

He smiled, changing quickly before heading downstairs. He walked into the kitchen to find Iris sitting at the table, eating cereal and looking a little worse for the wear. 

“Maybe I should have stayed up for that second movie, Barr.” she said, as he sat down next to her and grabbed the cereal box to pour his own bowl. “I was still so spooked I had nightmares all night.” 

“Honestly, me too.” Barry admitted.

Iris turned to look at him, a little hopeful, “Really?”

Barry gave her a small sheepish smile and a shrug, nodding. 

“I knew it!” She said, and then pulled him closer and laid her head on his shoulder. “How do you smell so clean?”

Over her head, Joe caught Barry’s eye and gave him a wink and a knowing smile, before miming that he was locking his lips and throwing away the key. Barry blushed, glanced down at Iris still cuddled up next to him, and smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for any kudos! And extra thanks for any comments in support! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry is reeling from the death of his mother and his father's imprisonment. Joe and Iris are trying to create a welcoming home for him, but Barry is struggling to accept their love. When an embarrassing night-time problem plagues him, will he be willing to receive their love and support?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, one more flashback chapter. I wanted to imagine Barry's struggles just after moving in with Joe and Iris, and how those two show up for him, each in their own way. I admit, of all of these, this is the one I sometimes forget isn't canon. If you like it, please comment!

“Daddy!” Iris said again, and this time Joe West groaned and blinking sleepily up at his 11 year old daughter.    
  
“Iris?” He asked, trying to fully wake up. “What’s wrong, baby?”   
  
“I can’t find Barry.” She said and Joe felt his heart speed up even as his brain stumbled over the confusing information. “What do you mean Iris? It’s the middle of the night. He’s in bed.”   
  
“He’s not!” Iris said, worry creeping into her voice. “I heard a noise and so I went to go check on Barry…” Joe gave a small smile at this. Ever since he’d brought Barry home a week ago, Iris had been mothering the heck out of her hurting best friend. It was pretty cute and sweet. “He wasn’t in his bed, and I can’t find him. What if he ran away again?”   
  
At that, Joe felt himself awaken fully, trying not to rush too quickly to panic. Barry had indeed tried to run away twice already in the days he’d been with them, but never in the middle of the night. Surely he wouldn’t try that.   
  
“Did you look downstairs?” Joe asked, climbing out of bed and pulling on his bathrobe.    
  
Iris nodded, eyes wide. “I looked everywhere.”   
  
“Okay,” her dad said. “Let me take a look.” As he called out Barry’s name and started moving toward his bedroom door, Iris grabbed his forearm gently for a moment. “Dad, he also…” she said, trailing off, looking hesitant.   
  
“What else, Iris? You better tell me right now.” 

She hesitated a moment longer before finally saying quietly, “I think Barry wet his bed.”   
  
“What?” He asked, surprised.    
  
“When I went into his room … his sheets were all balled up and … there was a wet spot on the mattress.” She winced in sympathy.    
  
This was a new development. Barry had been barely sleeping since his mother’s murder, so terrified to be alone in the dark that Joe had toyed with the idea of letting the boy sleep on a pallet in his room for awhile, but this... He wasn’t aware that his daughter’s best friend still had trouble staying dry at night. Henry and Nora had certainly never mentioned it.    
  
He continued to call out Barry’s name as he walked down the hall, turning on the lights as he went. Peeking into Barry’s room, he saw immediately that Iris was right.  _ Poor kid. He must be embarrassed. _ Joe only hoped he was hiding somewhere, rather than running away. But, when he’d thoroughly searched both upstairs and down to no avail, a growing panic filled his chest. He pulled on his boots and his coat, and instructed Iris to go back to bed.   
  
He stepped out onto the porch and was about to head for the stairs and he saw a flash of movement in his peripheral vision. He turned to look, and could just barely make out in the shadowy corner of the porch, the huddled, shivering form of a little boy. Barry had his legs up in front of him and his arms wrapped tightly around them, his face buried in his knees. Between the cooler night air and wet pjs, the kid must be freezing.    
He was smaller than Iris anyway, in that awkward way that was so often true for middle school boys and girls, but in this moment, he looked even younger and smaller, more 6 than 11. Joe was tempted to run to him and scoop him up, but Barry had been extremely skittish since the murder, and if Joe tried to get too close or coddle too much, Barry would spook and push him even farther away.    
  
So he crouched down low in front of the boy, but didn’t reach out.    
  
“Barry, what are you doing out here?”   
  
Barry didn’t answer right away, but when he did, he said, “I want to go home.” in a miserable, wavering voice.    
  
Joe sighed. “I know, son. I know. And I’m sorry that you can’t. I really am. But isn’t being safe and warm inside our house better than shivering out here alone in the dark?”   
  
Barry sniffled. “Doesn’t matter. You’re gonna kick me out anyway.”   
  
“Why in the world would you think that?” Joe asked with a chuckle.    
  
Barry was quiet for a long moment, fidgeting uncomfortably. And then he whispered, sounding scared and ashamed, “I had an accident.”   
  
Joe’s heart hurt for the boy. “I know, Barry--” Barry’s head whipped up in confusion and Joe clarified, “Iris told me.”   
  
“Iris?!” Barry said in alarm, eyes growing wide and terrified and quickly filling with tears. “Iris knows??”   
  
“She went to your room to look for you and…”   
  
“She saw…” Barry said in horror “Oh no.” And then his face crumpled and he buried it once again in his knees. He was crying, hard, shoulders shaking. Joe’s heart broke a little. He knew Barry had always thought Iris hung the moon, and lately he’d begun to wonder if it had grown into a crush. Barry had been through a lot recently, but having the girl you like see you wet the bed was mortifying in a particularly potent way. Joe couldn’t help it, he put a comforting hand on the kid’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.   
  
“Listen to me, Barr. It’s okay. Iris is your best friend. She loves you and cares about you. She understands. It was an accident. They happen.”   
  
“Even for Iris?” Barry asked in a wet voice.    
  
Joe nodded and said, “Sure,” and after a beat, he admitted, “When she was younger.” The last line made Barry wince, and Joe gave his shoulder another squeeze.    
  
After a moment, Joe asked gently, “Does this happen a lot, Barry?   
  
Barry lifted his head, shaking it emphatically, as he wiped a hand across his eyes. “Not in a long time,” he said quietly. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”   
  
Joe wanted to tell him it would be okay even if it did happen again, but he wasn’t sure Barry could take the implication that it might, so he just said, “You’re okay, son. You’re okay. Let’s get you inside and cleaned up, okay?   
  
Barry nodded and Joe help him to his feet.    
  
As they walked inside, Joe saw Iris stand up from the couch. “I thought I told you to go back to bed, young lady.” The second Barry saw Iris, he stared at the floor, and tried to hide himself behind Joe, tugging at his wet pajama pants self-consciously.    
  
“It’s okay, Barry,” Iris said softly, offering him a gentle smile. But he didn’t look up, instead just blushing, somehow, even more red all the way to the tips of his ears. Iris turned to her dad. “I put the sheets in the wash, Daddy. And a towel on the bed to soak up the…” Iris trailed off. Joe felt Barry tense miserably behind him. “Okay, baby, thank you. I’ll take it from here. Go to bed.”   
  
Iris looked like she wanted to push back, but Joe gave her a look that said he wasn’t willing to argue and she turned and disappeared up the stairs. When she was gone, Barry whispered, “Thanks.” And Joe put a hand on his shoulders to steer him upstairs and said, “No problem, son. I’ve got you.”

* * *

  
The next day, Barry barely spoke and wouldn’t make eye contact with either Iris or Joe, blushing any time either one of them acknowledged him. When he woke up dry the following morning, his hope restored that it had indeed been a one time thing, he perked up a little. 

But the next night, Joe and Iris were both jolted awake by the sound of the boy crying out desperately for his mom. They both rushed into his room, where his eyes were squeezed shut, tears leaking onto his cheeks. He was still asleep, that was clear, and having another nightmare. “Mom!” he cried out again, and Iris began gently shaking his shoulders to wake him, saying his name over and over. Slowly his cries softened and he blinked blearily, the world still confusing and unfamiliar for a moment, “Mom?” he asked, and Joe’s heart clenched. How many times was the kid going to have to wake up and remember all over again the horrifying truth?   
  
“It’s us, Barry,” he said softly, placing a steadying hand on the boys shoulder. “Joe and Iris.You’re safe.”   
  
He saw it. The moment reality slammed back into Barry. A few more tears fell down his face and he brushed them away.    
  
“Was it the man in yellow?” He asked gently, and Barry nodded, shuddering.

  
“I want my mom.” He said, voice breaking. And Joe knew he couldn’t make it better, not really, so he just squeezed Barry’s shoulder again and waited for his breathing to steady.    
  
After a minute or two, when he had calmed down a bit, Barry shifted in bed a little, and then froze. Joe watched his face turn red and his eyes close in a wince. Gently, he reached for the boy’s comforter, to pull it down, but Barry grabbed it fiercely against his chest, all but confirming what Joe suspected   
  
Joe sighed, “Barry, it’s okay. Let me…”    
  
“No.” Barry whispered, miserable but firm, and he cast his eyes briefly in Iris’ direction. Joe took the hint.   
  
“Iris, why don’t you go back to bed now?”   
  
“But Daddy, I can--”    
  
“Iris.” Joe said firmly, and she ghosted a hand gently through Barry’s hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head before leaving.   
  
“She’s not judging you, Barry. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” Joe told him, but Barry only gave a hollow laugh.   
  
When he felt like he could, Joe slowly pulled the covers back, and Barry stared up at the ceiling, a few more tears escaping the corners of his eyes.   
  
“Let’s get you changed into something dry, okay? And then we’ll take care of the bed and get you back to sleep.” He offered Barry a hand to take and after a moment’s hesitation, the boy took it, holding on hard as he sat up and climbed out of bed.    
  


* * *

  
The next night, as Joe tucked Barry into bed, he watched as the boy slide inbetween his covers and then froze when he heard something crinkling. He looked down at the bed, pressing his hand against the mattress to hear again the telltale crinkle of plastic. He looked back up at Joe, anger and embarrassment at war on his face. Joe held out a placating hand.    
  
“It’s just a precaution, Barr.”    
  
“I don’t...need that, Joe. It won’t happen again, I’ll make sure of it.”   
  
This time, Joe couldn’t let it go unsaid. “Barry, they’re called accidents for a reason. You can’t control it. It might happen again, even though you don’t want it to. And it will be okay, if it does. This will just make it a little easier to take care of.”   
  
It took Barry along time to fall asleep that night as Joe sat by his bed, and Joe had a sneaking suspicion that Barry’s way to “make sure” he didn’t wet the bed again was to not sleep at all. But eventually, he heard the boy’s breath even out, kissed him on the forehead goodnight, and went to fall, exhausted, into his own bed.   


* * *

When nearly a week went by without another nighttime accident, Joe had started to second guess himself. Had he been too quick to jump to a plastic mattress protector? Had he embarrassed the boy for no reason.    
  
And then one night, he was pulled abruptly from sleep by another loud noise. His first thought was Barry, but it wasn’t a cry and it wasn’t coming from the direction of his room. It was coming from the other end of the hallway. Pulling on his robe as he went, he dashed down the hall toward the noise and the light spilling out of … the laundry room. Already knowing what he was likely to find, he walked into the door to find the washing machine shuddering, sudsy water pouring out of it, and Barry standing wide-eyed on the corner staring at the machine and saying, “No, no, no, no, no” over and over again.   
  
Joe rushed into action, stopping the cycle, and directing Barry to hand him the bucket and mop. They didn’t speak for a long while, as he mopped up the water, and Barry silently helped by emptying out the bucket as needed. When the mess was cleaned up, Joe sorted out the machine, and got it running properly again, before steering Barry back to his room, grabbing some clean sheets on the way.    
  
Once the boy was settled back in bed, Joe gave him an appraising look. “I think I can safely guess what needed washing in the middle of the night,” he said, as Barry looked down, turning red. “But you want to tell me why you decided to take care of it on your own?”   
  
Barry’s breath hitched. “I… I told you I would stop it. That it wouldn’t happen again. I thought if I could just take care of it myself, you’d never have to know.”   
  
“Barry, that’s not your job. I’m in charge. It’s my job to take care of you, and to clean up after you, and to help you with … stuff like this.”    
  
“I’m sorry,” Barry said quietly.    
  
“I know, kiddo. Promise me, from now on, you won’t try to handle this on your own?” After a long moment, Barry nodded. Joe pulled up the covers and sat quietly waiting for the boy to sleep.    
  


* * *

The next time it happened, Joe came to Barry’s room to wake him up for school and found the boy on his floor, sleeping underneath a spare blanket. He didn’t need to see the wet bed to know what had happened. Shaking the boy awake, he said, “Barry, why didn’t you come get me? You didn’t have to sleep on the floor.”   
  
But Barry just mumbled, “Didn’t want to wake you up.” Joe let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. "Okay well, let’s get this taken care of quickly, or you’ll be late for school."

“I can help,” Iris said from the doorway, and this time Joe let her, despite Barry’s desperate protestations. The kid had to learn how to accept help.    
  


* * *

  
After that, Joe had taken to checking on Barry every couple of hours throughout the night, not trusting the boy to come to him on his own. He was more than willing to do what he needed to take care of Barry, but it was exhausting, almost like having an infant again, and the loss of sleep and endless laundry was starting to wear on him. Some weeks were better than others, but the boy hadn’t made it through a single one without waking up wet at least once.   
  
So when several months had gone by and the problem hadn’t stopped, Joe knew they needed to find a different solution. One night, he sent Iris to bed first, and then came in to Barry’s room carrying a bag with him. Barry looked at it curiously. Joe sat down on the bed and looked at Barry.   
  
“Son, I know you don’t want to, but we have to talk about the bedwetting.” Barry flushed, eyes going wide. “I’m sorry” he said, his voice breaking. “I… keep trying to make it stop.”   
  
“Hey, hey, I know. I know.” He said reaching out for the boy’s arm to comfort him before he went into full panic mode. “I’m not mad, Barry. But what we’re doing isn’t working. You can’t keep losing so much sleep. I can’t either. And we can’t keep doing laundry every few days.”   
  
The boy was quiet. And then he said, “I know, but I don’t know what else to do.”    
  
Joe looked at him, an almost guilty expression crossing his face. “I have an idea,” he said, pulling a package from the bag he’d brought. He held it out to Barry, who studied the package for a moment, taking it in, and then looking up at Joe in horror, his eyes rapidly tearing up.    
  
“Are these diapers?” He said, he voice cracking. Joe shook his head quickly, “No Barry, they’re not diapers. They’re called GoodNites. You can pull them on and off just like regular underwear. But… if you do have an accident, they’ll absorb it. You can sleep through the night and the bed won’t get wet.”   
  
“But those are for little kids.” Barry said quietly, his voice filled with shame.    
  
“These are for kids your size, Barry. Don’t you want to be able to go to sleep without worrying? Won’t you at least give them a chance?”   
  
Barry stared down at the package for a long, long time, not saying anything. And then he said, in a thick voice, as a few tears fell onto the package, “Iris will think I’m a baby.”   
  
_ Oh, this kid _ . Even after all these months, Barry was still fixated on the idea of what Iris thought of him. Iris was so eager to help, and it was making Barry so miserable, that Joe finally had to explain to her that her best friend was embarrassed and that she could best help him by giving him some space when the situation came up. Joe didn’t really understand why pullups were worse than a wet bed, but he knew logic worked differently when you were eleven.   
  
“She won’t think you’re a baby, Barry. You know that.”   
  
But Barry shook his head. “Yes she will. Of course she will. Because that’s what I am. Just a stupid baby.”   
  
Joe took Barry’s chin and forced him to look up at him. “Barry, listen to me now. You are not a baby. You are a kid, who has been through something terrible. And your body and your mind are coping the best they can. You have to be gentle with yourself, son.”   
  
“What if it doesn’t stop?” Barry asked so quietly that Joe could barely hear him.    
  
“It will, Barry. I promise it will. But I don’t know when, and in the meantime, these will help. They will.”

  
Barry was still staring at the package in misery, looking unsure.    
“Think about it this way Barry. If you wear these, there will be no wet sheets to take care of in the middle of the night, no loud washing machines. Iris doesn’t have to know you’re wearing them, and she might think you’ve just stopped wetting the bed entirely.”   
  
Joe knew that would be the kicker for Barry. The chance to reclaim some of his dignity in the eyes of his crush. Barry gave the smallest of smiles at the thought.   
  
“Okay.” The boy said finally.   
  
“Good boy,” Joe said, giving Barry a found pat on the head. Then he tore open the package and pulled out one of the GoodNites, holding it out to Barry. “Why don’t we try one out tonight. I’ll let you… get changed, and then I’ll come tuck you in, okay?”   
  
Barry’s face was still red and he looked at the object in his hands with shame and disgust, but he nodded, and climbed out of bed to change. Joe stepped outside the room to give the kid some privacy, and then came back to sit with him until he fell asleep.    


* * *

  
Despite Barry’s hesitations, things did seem to change for the better once they made the switch to nighttime protection. Everybody was getting more sleep, and Barry appreciated being able to handle his issues a little more privately. Joe would still check in with him every morning, asking out of Iris’ earshot, “How’d it go?” On the dry mornings, Barry would smile at him and say, “Good.” On the bad days Barry often wouldn’t say anything, but his face would flush and he’d look away, and shake his head, and Joe would pull him in for a comforting side-hug.    
  
The biggest change Joe saw in Barry was how much more relaxed and happy he seemed around Iris, now that he didn’t have to worry about her catching him in an embarrassing night time situation. He knew Barry believed that Joe’s prediction had been right. That Iris was none the wiser and had probably assumed that the problem had gone away. 

But Joe saw what Barry didn’t. Like how Iris never asked about the issue and whether it was still happening. Or how, once Barry started making sure to change out of his pajamas every morning before coming down to breakfast, Iris did the same thing, without comment. Or how when they stayed up late in the living room on Friday nights watching movies and Barry would start to look sleepy, Iris would announce that she was going to put on her pajamas and come back downstairs. Barry would always eagerly agree to the idea, but when he got back downstairs, he’d make a point to settle alone into the armchair rather than next to Iris again on the couch. Joe knew Iris noticed, but she never said anything.   
  
And then one day, the pair came home from school, and without a word or even eye contact with Joe, Barry stomped up the stairs and slammed the door to his room.    
  
“Want to … tell me what that was about?” Joe asked his daughter. But she just shrugged.

“I don’t know, he’s been like that since Mrs. Hardigree’s homeroom.”   
  
She looked at Joe until he nodded, and then she said, as if it were unrelated, “Oh, by the way, Mrs. Hardigree announced the 6th grade overnight trip this morning. It’s scheduled for next month.”   
  
“Oh” Joe said, noncommittally. “That sounds fun.”   
  
“I guess,” Iris said. “But I was thinking… I may not go.”   
  
Joe raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? And why is that?”   
  
“I just … I’m afraid to be away from home overnight. I thought, well I was hoping maybe Barry would … stay behind with me?”   
  
She was almost convincing. Almost. But Joe was pretty sure about what she was up to. He wasn’t going to call her on it though. His sweet, thoughtful girl, looking out for her best friend in ways Barry didn’t even know about.    
  
“I see.” Joe said finally, crossing his arms. “Well… Barry is your best friend. I think he’d probably be willing to miss the trip … for you.”   
  
Iris gave Joe a small triumphant smile and nodded.    
  
“But for now, I’m gonna go check on Mr. Moody before he breaks something.” Joe said, heading for the stairs.    
  
He found Barry at his desk, mindlessly doodling in his notebook, looking both miserable and angry.    
  
“Hey there Speed Demon. What got you storming up here so fast?”   
  
Barry didn’t look up at him. “I have homework” he said, unconvincingly.    
  
“I thought you were one of those kids who likes homework,” Joe said. “I’ve never seen it make you this grumpy.”   
  
When Barry didn’t respond, he tried a different tack, “Would this have anything to do with the 6th grade overnight field trip Mrs. Hardigree mentioned this morning?”   
  
Barry didn’t answer at first, but then he said, “If I go and have an … you know … everyone will find out. And even if I don’t, they’ll find out … what I wear to sleep. But if I don’t go, everyone will be able to guess why. Either way my life is over.”   
  
Joe smirked, despite himself. He didn’t miss the way the stakes constantly felt so high at that age. “Barry, I don’t think your life will be over. And I’m not sure that anyone would guess the reason why you don’t go, if you don’t.”   
  
“Iris will. She’ll know why.” Barry said miserably.  _ Of course. It always comes back to Iris. _   
  
“Well, funny thing. Iris just told me she doesn’t want to go. She’s afraid to be away from home. And she’s hoping that, as her best friend, you might be willing to miss out and stay behind with her.”   
  
“Iris said that?” Barry asked, looking slightly hopeful and relieved. Joe nodded.   
  
“Well… if it’s for Iris, then okay.”   
  
Joe smiled, and Barry smiled back, finally freed from his foul mood.    
  


* * *

  
When the weekend of the field trip arrived, Joe let Iris and Barry stay home from school, and they played board games all day. At night, Iris insisted they have a sleepover in the living room and then declared she was going to put on her pajamas and told Barry do the same. Barry looked at her curiously for a moment, but then he followed her up the stairs.    
  
When they came back down and Barry had settled into the armchair, Iris asked what movie he wanted to watch, but Barry didn’t answer.   
  
“Earth to Barry.” Iris said, and Barry looked at her, seeming to come back from being lost in thought.   
  
“Iris… do you know?”   
  
Iris looked at him, confused. “Know what?”   
  
“Joe said you didn’t want to go on the field trip because you were afraid to be away from home.”   
  
Iris shrugged. “Yeah, so?”   
  
“Iris, I know you. You’re not afraid of anything. And you definitely weren’t afraid to be away from home when you went to Sarah Overmeier’s birthday sleepover. I feel like maybe... you were just giving me an out. From the trip.”

  
Iris just shrugged again and didn’t answer. Barry groaned a bit and sighed. “You know, don’t you? That I still… you know about … the GoodNites?” He said, forc the last word out, face flushed.    
  
Iris gave him a small apologetic smile. “I didn’t  _ know _ know. But I kind of guessed. I know you too Barry.”   
  
Barry squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his face, before staring down at his lap and picking at the blanket draped over him. Finally he said, “Do you think I’m a baby?”   
  
Iris sighed in exasperation, “Don’t be dumb, Barry. No I don’t think you’re a baby because of something you can’t help. I think you’re my best friend in the entire world. And nothing about you could ever make that untrue. Barry, you went through something really, really awful. If it had happened to me, I’d probably be the one having … this problem. Would you think I was a baby?”   
  
“Of course not!” Barry said quickly.   
  
“See? So stop being embarrassed around me, okay?”   
  
“I’ll try.” Barry said quietly, his face still a little red.   
  
“And you can start by laying down on a pile of blankets with me on the floor while we watch the movie, instead hiding over there in that chair because you’re afraid I’ll notice your underwear. I don’t care what you wear to sleep in, Barry. I carry about you, dummy.”   
  
Barry gave her a sheepish smile and dragged himself over the middle of the room where Iris had started piling blankets. He helped. And then they laid down next to each other for the first time in months. Barry could feel his extra-padded underwear brushing up against Iris as they cuddled together, but she must have noticed how self-conscious he was, because she just whispered one more time, “It’s okay,” and then leaned her head on his shoulder.   
  
And for the first time in a long time, Barry thought that maybe it was. 


End file.
